In The House of Flies
by EnigmasRaven
Summary: And when you find out that control is nothing more than an illusion, where do you go from there? (RavenStevie)


**Title:** In The House Of Flies

**Author:** Gabriel

**Wrestlers:** Stevie Richards, Scott Levy

**Warnings:** slash, violence, mild bondage, character death, suicide. sings These are a few of my favorite things...

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimers:** I don't own them. I don't presume to know anything about their lives either. Written purely for my twisted enjoyment. The lyrics used belong to the Deftones and are from the song "Change (In The House of Flies)". I'm actually not entirely sure on their accuracy since a few websites tried to insist that the lyrics were different, but this is what I hear every time I listen to the song and this is how the muses want the story written, so this is what the lyrics are in my universe.

**In The House Of Flies**

_I've watched you change into a fly_

There's something beautiful about the sight of one meant to fly being tied down, especially when you have the knowledge that you're the one who's responsible for their bondage. There's a certain satisfaction, an irony, since it used to be that our positions were reversed, that I was the one held in captivity. Now I can stand here watching my beautiful bird in the same position that I've been in hundred of times. I could stand here for hours, just staring at him, studying every inch of his body, not needing to touch because I know that he's not going anywhere. It's not like he can. He can't use his wings now and soon, soon his wings will be gone.

My eyes drift over the clamps around his wrists, at the chains that go from them to the wall, stretching his arms out as if he were being crucified. Another clamp is around his neck, attached to the pole behind him, preventing any movement from his head. I'd debated covering his mouth with duct tape to prevent any unnecessary sounds that might destract me from my work, but I couldn't bear the thought of not being able to hear him beg. After all the times I'd pleaded with him when he'd used the same chains on me, when he'd ignored my cries for help, I couldn't let the chance go by.

He's so pretty hanging there and as grounded as a bird who has had it's wings clipped. So pretty, which isn't how I'd usually think of him. I was always the pretty one, he was always my opposite in every way. And before this, I was always the white to his blackness, but now it seems that some of his darkness has infected me. Or maybe it was always there and I was simply too blind to see it. But I can see it now and that's all that matters.

He brought this all on himself. He should have known better than to think I was the weak one, that I would just let him continue using me, abusing me. He should have seen this coming but he was blinded all this time, blinded by his version of love, blinded by a false sense of trust, blinded because he couldn't see what was right in front of his eyes, and now he's got himself trapped in my web, now he's all mine to play with.

_I looked away, you were on fire_

And you can't play without toys, now can you? I can see them sitting on the table a few feet away from me, shining a dull silver. Ever so slowly, I pick up one of them and stare at it, watching as it glints in the tiny bit of illumination cast by the single light bulb that serves as the only form of brightness in the otherwise shadowy basement. It's time for his punishment. Time to make sure he never flies again.

I don't need to turn around to know that his eyes have opened since I last looked at him. I can feel them watching me, most likely focusing on the blade in my hands, probably trying to figure out exactly what I'm planning on doing with it. He can wonder all he wants, I'm not planning on telling him. There's no need to. When the time is right, he'll know what I'm going to use the knife for and by then, he'll already have felt pain, pain like the pain I have, pain like the pain he has caused me.

When I finally turn towards him, my eyes immediately meet his, and I find myself drawn into them. As always, those dark chocolate pools that serve as the windows to his soul have me hypnotized. Somehow they still have trust in them, for some reason the poor bird still trusts me, even after everything I've already done to him, even though he must have realized what I'm going to do. But the trust, even the serenity that I find when I look into them, can't overshadow the hint of fear that he's trying to hide. Nor can it hide the betrayal that I can see lurking in the back of those dark pools.

And I wonder how I could have missed it. After all those times I would be staring into his eyes, how I could have not seen the underlying hint of it. I should have known better anyway. Everyone else in my life has had their own secret agenda. What should he have been any exception? He shouldn't have, he wasn't. I should never have expected that he would treat me with the love he promised me, that love was even a word in his vocabulary. I should never have trusted him.

I've always wonder why, if eyes are the windows to the soul, are his brown? Because if that statement is true, then his eyes should be completely blank since I know that it's impossible that he has one. No one who is capable of doing the things that he could do, that he has done, could possibly have a soul. So why don't I see the flames of hell dancing in them when I look into them?

I close the distance between us, trailing my finger against the cold metal of the blade, and stare into his eyes, trying to find a hint of the fire I expect to see in them. When I don't, I step back, disappointed, watching as he struggles against the chains, trying to see if they'll give. He should know that they won't. He watched me try and get lose enough times.

"What the hell are you doing?" His voice is slightly raspy from having the metal clamp jerked against his throat, but I can make out the words just fine.

"Making sure you never fly again." I pause. "Repaying you for years of abuse." I pause again, flicking the knife against his bare stomach, smiling as he involuntarily tightens his stomach muscles, pulling away from the metal. "Making you mine."

His eyes never leave mine. He's shaking slightly and I can't help laughing softly. I like seeing him like this, seeing him submissive and vulnerable.

"Why?" I'd been prepared for him to beg so the question catches me somewhat off guard. Then again, I should have known that he wouldn't. I'm the one who begs and he's not to the point of breaking down to my level yet. I'll get him there though.

"You know why."

His eyes close at those words. Yes, he knows exactly why. So he's not as clueless as I thought he was. He has come to the realization that having his abuse, both mental and physical, was what brought me to this point, and it doesn't seem to surprise him. He should have stopped it sooner then. Maybe we wouldn't be here today if he had.

_I took you home_

_Set you on the glass_

_I pulled off your wings_

_Then I laughed_

"What are you doing?"

I continue staring at his back, at his shoulder blades, standing just behind him so that he can't see me. I can see him trying to turn his head, the collar preventing it, cutting into the side of his throat every time he tries to move. His movements get more frantic for a moment and then stop. Either he's managed to choke himself into unconsciousness or he's resigned himself to letting me do whatever I'm going to do. I'm beyond caring which. The pain will do the job of making him aware of everything I'm doing. It'll wake him up if he's unconscious and he won't be able to ignore it.

"Feel my pain, Scotty."

I place the blunt side of the metal against his back as a warning and I smirk as I see him tense up at the feeling of it against his skin, as I see him shudder slightly. I give him enough time to wonder what I'm about to do, and then I jam the knife as hard as I can into his shoulder blade, dragging it down with one quick swift motion, feeling the muscle and tendons give against the razor sharp blade, hearing him scream in pure agony, watching as his entire body jerks and twists with pain.

I give him a minute to start to deal with the pain before repeating the same process on his other shoulder blade, smiling as I see the flesh part under the dull silver, as I see the red tissue exposed, the dark blood beginning to drip to the floor. And then I step back and just watch him writhing, watching as he pulls at the handcuffs until his wrists are bleeding as well, as he jerks on the collar until his throat is raw and cut open. But that's all secondary compared to the fact that I've completed what I set out to do. I've made sure that he'll never fly again. I destroyed his wings.

_I look at the cross_

_Then I look away_

_I give you the gun_

_Blow me away_

I want to see his eyes. I know I shouldn't, that if I go to him now something's going to happen that's going to make me regret ever doing this, but I have to see him broken, I have to see him the way he saw me. What I find is his face clenched in pain, his eyes hollow and sad.

"Stevie." He sounds so hurt. I know better than to trust him, but he honestly sounds betrayed. He deserved though so he can only make me feel so guilty. He lowers his head. "I know it's too late for this... but I'm sorry. For everything."

Great, he's trying to manipulate me even as he's bleeding to death.

"I'm sure you are."

"I love you."

He meets my eyes on that and something snaps inside me. He does love me, in his own demented way, and I just made the two cuts that are going to end his life. What the hell was I thinking? I turn back towards the table and pick up the other object on it, realizing that I'd subconsciously made the decision not to walk back out of here when I entered. Because otherwise there would be no reason for me having brought this.

Silently, I unchain him, wincing as he falls limply to the floor, and kneel down in front of him, handing him the gun. I have no idea if he has the strength left to fire it, but I'll assume yes considering he managed to take it from my hands. I keep my eyes closed, so I don't see him move, but I feel his lips press against mine, and then the gun is pressed against the side of my head. I have enough time to whisper what is both an apology and an answer to his unasked question of why I'm doing this.

"I love you too."


End file.
